


So There It Is, I've Said It All

by PorcupineGirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel in the Bunker, Castiel is Not Oblivious, Coda, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Episode Tag, First Kiss, M/M, Netflix and Chill, Only without the chill, nobody in this fic has any chill, post-episode: s11e04 Baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:11:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5139323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcupineGirl/pseuds/PorcupineGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why, do you have something you need to say to me that you don't think I'll like?"</p>
<p>
  <i>I think I'm in love with you.</i>
</p>
<p>"Yeah. I guess so."</p>
            </blockquote>





	So There It Is, I've Said It All

**Author's Note:**

> Because the world can never have enough 11x04 codas, right?
> 
> Title from Bob Seger's _We've Got Tonight_ , which Dean quotes in the episode but, unlike _Night Moves_ , is not actually about a one night stand, but about wanting to turn it into something more. Hmmmmm, fascinating choice.

_Something more._

Dean can't get Sam's words out of his mind for the next couple of days. They get home (Dean's a little surprised that Sam still doesn't consider the bunker home, but that won't stop Dean), let Cas heal them, Dean starts working on Baby. 

Cas offers to help. He's not strong enough right now to snap his fingers and make her good as new, but any of her parts that are completely there, that are just bent or torn and not shattered and strewn across a parking lot halfway across the country, he says he can mold back to their original shape. For some reason, Dean lets him.

He tries not to think about why; it just makes sense, right? Get her up and running as quickly as possible. Replacing the windshield is gonna be pain in the ass enough.

But it nags at him. Not wondering why; oh, he knows. The why itself. It keeps knocking on his brain and demanding that he let it in, pay it some attention.

He did it because he knows Cas wishes he could have come along on the case. Because Cas was so damn happy when he got to heal him and Sam that Dean feels guilty for not letting him heal his face before.

Because maybe if he can keep Cas happy, and keep him feeling useful, Cas won't leave. At least, not for a while.

_Something more_. _Somebody who understands the life._

Three days after they get home, Dean wakes in the middle of the night with a start. It wasn't a nightmare, not exactly. At least, it wasn't the violent kind of nightmare he's used to. It was just Cas—wearing human clothes, living a normal human life. Here. In the bunker. Until Dean walked into the war room and Cas was standing there in his full angel getup, a frown on his face.

"The angels have changed their mind. I have been forgiven, and will be welcomed back into heaven. I have learned from my mistakes. I will not be returning to earth except to carry out missions assigned to me. Farewell, Dean."

"Wait!" Dean shouted in the dream. "You can't just _go_. What the hell, Cas? I thought this was your home."

Cas tilted his head and squinted, and the gesture had made tears prick at Dean's eyes. He didn't even know that could happen in a dream.

"Why would you think that? I stayed here because I thought I might be of use to you, but you and Sam have hunted for many years without me. You don't require my help. I am needed elsewhere."

"You're needed here!"

"Am I? For what?"

Dean hesitated, terrified even in the face of losing everything to give a voice to _those_ thoughts.

He hesitated a moment too long.

"Goodbye, Dean."

When Dean wakes up gasping, surging upright, it takes him a minute to realize that it was just a dream. That Cas is here, probably off in some corner indulging his new Netflix addiction on the laptop since he doesn't need to sleep.

Dean lies back down, but his bed suddenly feels too big, too empty.

…Obviously, he wouldn't let that _happen._

Would he?

If he had to, if it really came down to it, he could say something. If he were about to lose Cas anyhow. If not saying it carried exactly the same risk as saying it.

A half an hour later, he gives up on sleep. Gets up to see if Cas is watching anything interesting.

That's an understatement. At first, Dean thinks he's walked in on Cas watching porn, which would be just his luck.

As it turns out, Orange is the New Black involves a good bit of lesbian sex. Some of it full-frontal. Cas is frowning at the screen as though he's trying to suss out the exact mechanics of cunnilingus. As Dean sits down to join him, Cas doesn't even ask why he's awake.

Unfortunately, although the show is actually pretty good, it's not good enough to drown out Dean's mind. Something is trying to come together there. Dean isn't even quite sure what it is he's trying to figure out. He feels like he's got some puzzle pieces but no picture of the finished product. He's not even sure if he's got all the pieces, and every once in a while he finds another one under his chair.

_Something more_.

Cas in a ring of holy fire.

Cas dropping an angel blade and healing him.

Sitting in a bar, talking about ET going home.

A river in Purgatory.

His sleeve being pushed up. "What have you done?"

Strong arms around him, stronger than him, rage at the angel grace subduing him, at himself for not killing Sam quicker.

"I'm the one who will have to watch you murder the world."

"Am I? For what?" Hesitation.

The episode ends. Dean looks over at Cas. Cas, who is over his curse. Who is still here. Who has looked for his car but made no attempt to get a new one, to take one from the bunker garage, to leave.

"I had planned to watch the rest of the season, but if you would rather watch something different, we could," Cas says, casting his eyes toward Dean with an expectant expression so unlike the warrior Dean first met.

"Nah, it's fine. Whatever's fine," Dean says. "I'm gonna grab a drink first, though. You want anything?"

"No thank you."

He's _so frigging close_. He shakes his head as he wanders into the kitchen, wondering what the fuck he's trying to think about.

He rifles around in the fridge. A beer at 4AM would be a little weird, but maybe it'd help him get back to sleep. Does he want to go back to sleep anymore?

He finally settles on a can of Sprite—no alcohol, but no caffeine, either. Nothing but corn syrup and an excuse to stand in front of the refrigerator and gather his thoughts.

He feels like he's almost there as he wanders back into the library.

It's just as he plops back down into his chair that it hits him. A simple truth that took him far too long to figure out.

"Huh."

Cas stops where he'd been reaching out to hit play on the next episode.

"What is it?"

"It's just… It'd take a hell of a lot to make things weird between us at this point, wouldn't it?" He looks at Cas, who is here.

"Weird?"

"Y'know, tense. Uncomfortable."

Cas looks at Dean as though he's just denied the existence of demons. "That has happened quite a few times."

Dean snorts and shakes his head.

"I mean in a really bad way. I mean—in a way we can't, y'know, eventually fix."

One corner of Cas's mouth lifts, and Dean almost can't look at the fondness in his eyes—but is less able to look away.

"Dean, if that is your measure, that means that something would have to be worse than Leviathan or the Mark of Cain to make things 'weird' between us."

Damn. It took Dean's brain years to even notice that the pieces were there; he should have known that Cas had been waiting over at the next table with a finished puzzle for a while now.

"Yeah, exactly. Even if I said something you didn't like, you wouldn't lord it over me, or bring it up just to make me feel bad, or stop talking to me or hate me or something."

"If you said something I didn't like?" Cas's smile spreads. "You say things I don't like on nearly a daily basis, Dean."

Dean's head falls back and he makes a frustrated sound. Cas doesn't have to be so damn _smug_ about this shit.

"I didn't mean I never have, I meant if I did it again. If I said something that was true, but you didn't like it and didn't want to hear about it."

Cas's smile fades, his face suddenly more serious.

"Dean, if I know that you are being honest with me, nothing you say could ever make me hate you. Question your judgment, perhaps. But I would not stop talking to you." He considers. "Unless, I suppose, the honest thing you said was that you'd like me to stop talking to you. But then only if I were confident that you weren't simply saying it due to some misguided need for self-flagellation."

Dean rolls his eyes.

_So here's the part where I just_ say it _, because now I know that there's not actually any real risk there. Well, a little bitty one, but not, like, the HUGE risk I thought it was. So it's just logical. To say it._

_Any second now._

Cas frowns, regarding Dean closely.

"Why, do you have something you need to say to me that you don't think I'll like?"

_I think I'm in love with you._

"Yeah. I guess so."

_I think I'm in love with you._

"You may as well say it, then, so that we can move on."

_I think I'm in love with you._

"I know. It's just… it's not easy, even if I know you won't hate me."

_I think I'm in love with you_.

"Why?"

_Because I_ _think_ _I'm in_ _love_ _with you, Cas_.

"I just… There are plenty of ways for it to suck, even if it's nothing we can't recover from."

_Rejection._

_That's how it could suck._

_Because I think I'm in love with you._

"Well, now you know that I know there is something you're not telling me. This doesn't make anything awkward for me, but it will make interacting with me awkward for you until you finally break down and tell me. So you might as well do it now."

_I think I'm in love with you._

Dean licks his lips. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

But it plays on repeat in his mind, louder and louder, drowning everything out.

Suddenly, Cas pushes back from the table, eyes closed, jaw clenched.

" _Stop it,"_ Cas growls, then drops his head down into his hands.

Dean's so startled and confused that it finally breaks his train of thought.

"Stop what?"

"Just say it or don't, Dean," Cas says, elbows on his knees and head still in his hands. "I can only pretend not to hear you for so long."

"Pretend—not _hear_ me? Cas, have you been reading my fucking mind?" Dean isn't sure whether he's more furious or mortified.

Cas finally looks up, although he stays hunched over. He looks like he's in pain, and Dean's fury dulls a little. "It's not like I have to go digging, you're screaming at me! I can't even block it out like I usually can, you're—you're _throwing_ it at me."

Dean just stares at him in stunned silence. Okay, definitely more mortified. Especially since now he can't keep the thought out of his head.

_I think I'm in love with you._

"And if you don't want me to know, if you want me to act like I don't know, that's fine," Cas just sounds weary now, and he lowers his head again. "I can keep doing that, I'm used to it. I would never act on something you didn't want me to have heard. If you don't say it out loud, I will continue as I have been—but right now, you have got to either say it to me out loud or stop dangling it in front of me, teasing me with it. Neither one will make things irreparably 'weird,' I promise you, but the latter is too painful."

And there's something in the things Cas is saying, and not quite saying. A couple more pieces of the puzzle that Dean needs to slot together.

"How long have you known?"

"I'm not sure anymore. It… calls out to me. Like a prayer. Even when you don't put it into words. You usually don't."

'What the hell, Cas, my _feelings_ call out to you like a _prayer?_ And you never thought to tell me this?" Okay, not furious, but a little annoyed, yeah.

"Please, Dean, if you aren't going to say it then we need to stop discussing this."

Frustrated, Dean tries another tack.

"Why is saying it out loud so important if you already know what I'm thinking?"

Now, Cas looks him straight in the eye.

"Because _meaning_ it is one thing. But I have to know if you _want_ to mean it. I know for a fact that there have been many times when you meant it but have not wanted it."

"I think I'm in love with you."

The words tumble out of their own volition. The part of him that wants this so badly must have snuck it past his rational mind while he was busy staring into Cas's eyes.

Cas sits up straighter, clearly startled that Dean actually said it. But then the expression of wonderment that spreads across his face is all Dean needs to know that he did the right thing.

"And if I'd told you, before now, that you'd been thinking that, how would you have responded?" Cas asks gently.

"Shittily," Dean admits. Depending on the day, he might have just denied it, or he might have gotten pissed, or he might have hidden from Cas for weeks.

"But now," Cas continues, "you really do want me to know? I'm allowed to respond?"

A little piece of Dean is freaking out and wants to scream _No!_ But there's hope in Cas's eyes.

"Yeah," he says, voice a little raspy. "I want you to know."

Finally, Cas smiles, and god, it's beautiful. Dean isn't sure he's ever seen Cas smile like this, like nothing in his millennia of existence has made him happier. It makes Dean smile in return.

"So… you're okay with this?" Dean asks. It's a little unnecessary, yeah, but if Cas has to hear it out loud, he gets to demand the same.

"I'm much more than okay with it."

Dean wants that to be good enough for now. He wants to be happy with whatever Cas is willing to give him, but he can't stop the flood of greed, of selfish longing that rushes through him. He wants _everything_. He wants Cas to promise him everything, and to promise it back. They can't, obviously they can't. Their life doesn't allow for promises. But Dean can't stop himself wanting it.

From the way Cas closes his eyes, Dean realizes he must be projecting that, too. It must be hitting Cas like a wave, like a fucking tsunami.

"Sorry," he mumbles, without really thinking. 

Then Castiel reaches out and touches his face. Cas's knuckles slide across his cheek, and Cas's thumb traces lightly over his lips, and Dean is gone. He grabs Cas's hand and presses his face into it, eyes closed, having no idea what he's doing or what he hopes happens next.

"We both know I can't say I'll never leave you," Cas murmurs. "I'll never want to, but I may need to. But I can promise that I will always, _always_ come back to you, Dean. As long as there is some piece of me, and some piece of you, somewhere in the universe, I will find my way back to you. If I'm not with you, it's only because I haven't found a way to get back yet."

Dean nods, not trusting himself to say anything. This is basically _years_ of feelings talk for him, all happening in ten minutes. He's not really equipped to deal with this situation.

Then the fingertips of the hand he's pressing his face into press down a little harder. He feels the familiar cool glow of grace, but only a tiny bit, like Cas is just dipping a toe into him.

"What—" He's cut short by a wave of emotion that makes him gasp. It's everything— _everything_ —he feels for Cas, but… wilder. More raw. As if it's being felt by a being who can't even process it as well as an emotionally-stunted human like Dean can.

No wonder Cas has been happy to pretend he can't hear Dean's longing; repression must be easier for him than letting himself live with _this_ flowing freely. And Dean sure as hell gets that.

The wave recedes as Dean feels the tips of Cas's grace being pulled back out of him.

He blinks his eyes open and just stares at his angel, a little more overwhelmed than ever.

"I thought it was only fair," Cas explains. Dean huffs a laugh.

They sit quietly for a moment, just watching each other. There's a lot going on, inside Dean and between the two of them, and Dean has no _fucking clue_ where to even start sifting through it all.

"So now what?" he finally says, and his voice sounds smaller than he'd ever admit.

When Dean took Cas to that den of iniquity about ten or fifteen lifetimes ago, he'd looked straight-up fucking terrified. It had been a far cry from the impassive alien Dean first met, but it was still a very basic, very simple emotion. The nervousness that overtakes his features now is so much more nuanced. So incredibly, painfully human. Dean doesn't need a Vulcan mind meld to read it.

"I… believe you have far more experience in this department than I do, Dean."

Dean snorts. "Hate to break it to you, but I have got _zero_ experience in this department, buddy. Unless you're looking for either a one night stand or whatever the fuck that was with Lisa, and…" He lets himself remember the feelings-dump Cas just gave him, lets himself feel confident for one second. He swallows thickly. "This ain't that, Cas."

At some point, he apparently let his hand fall away from his face, into his lap. With Cas's hand still in it. He looks down at their interlocked fingers and it suddenly hits him how tired he is. Four hours isn't enough anymore, hasn't been most of the time since he did his time as a demon. He's not sure if the demon thing wiped him out or if he's just getting old.

"I should go back to sleep," he announces, mostly to their hands. He looks up. "Come with me?"

The way Cas's face lights up at the request, he doesn't really even need to nod, though he does.

As they make their way back to Dean's room, he feels the old terror grip him. At least this time, he knows it's completely out of place. Cas is here, he's _here_ and he's here _with Dean_ , in every way that matters. Cas isn't leaving unless he has to. Dean doesn't have to work to make him want to stay. And he doesn't, he won't ever, feel disgust or anger or pity at Dean's love. Cas will love him whether he deserves it or not.

When they get into Dean's room and the door is shut behind them, Cas immediately takes off his trenchcoat and his shoes. He looks a little unsure of himself as he also removes his suit coat, and then his tie. Then he just looks down at the rest of his clothes in confusion.

Dean had just sat down on the edge the bed, about to climb under the covers, but now he stands up and takes pity on the bewildered angel.

"If you've got an undershirt on, just wear that and your boxers," he says as he comes over to Cas, reaches out and starts pulling his shirttails out of his pants. "If not, you can borrow one of my t-shirts." Cas's shirt untucked, Dean reaches up and starts unbuttoning it.

It's not sexy. It's not that kind of undressing. But it's intimate, in a way that makes Dean have to remind himself that this is _okay_ and he's _allowed to have this_. He steels himself stubbornly against the chorus of voices in his head trying to claim otherwise. He's made it this far, he's not going to let anything fuck this up—least of all himself.

Cas blinks for a second, a little thrown by Dean helping with his shirt, but he gets with the program quickly and undoes his cuffs. So that once Dean is done, he can slide the shirt off—and he is not wearing anything under it. Dean tries so hard not to stare, not to touch, because there will be plenty of time for that. Instead, he turns to dig a t-shirt out of his dresser while Cas takes care of his own pants. He tosses the shirt to him, and is about to head back to the bed when he stops. Instead, he goes back over to Cas, waiting patiently while he pulls on the AC/DC shirt.

Cas finishes tugging the hem of the shirt down, and seems to suddenly notice that Dean is standing just a few inches in front of him. He looks up at Dean curiously, brow furrowing just a bit. But before Cas can ask the question that's clearly forming on his lips, Dean takes his face in one hand, thumb brushing across his cheekbone and fingers sliding into his hair, and kisses him.

It's not heated; there's not even any tongue. But their arms slide around each other, and when their lips break apart Cas sighs into Dean's mouth in a way that makes Dean kiss him again.

When they break apart again, Cas murmurs, "You should sleep."

Dean pulls him over to the bed and turns down the covers. He climbs in and scoots to the other side of the bed, then turns back to Cas, who is still standing by the bed looking a little awkward. Dean grabs his hand and tugs him down.

As Cas is sliding under the covers, Dean reaches over him to turn off the bedside lamp. Once he does, he doesn't move back immediately. He's propped on one elbow over Cas, faces close enough that he can feel Cas's breath.

"This is really okay?" he can't help but ask softly.

One of Cas's hands slides up and around his waist. He can't see Cas at all, and the contact immediately makes everything feel more real.

"I wouldn't be here if it weren't. Go to sleep, Dean. I would much, much rather watch over you than sit in there alone with Netflix."

Dean grins, then lays back on his pillow. Cas's hand follows him, still on his waist once he's settled in. They're on their sides, facing each other.

"You do this every night, you're gonna get way behind on your shows," Dean says.

"Worth it."

That startles a laugh out of Dean. "Claire teach you that?"

"No," Dean can hear the smile in Cas's voice. "You said that in reference to the stomachache you had from eating half a pecan pie two days ago."

Dean is so fucking delighted that he scoots over and snuggles right into Cas's arms, tucking his head under Cas's chin. Cas holds him tightly and kisses the top of his head, and Dean finally feels every last one of his insecurities fall away. Oh sure, he'll doubt himself again in the morning, and probably every twenty minutes thereafter. But for now, he's happy to fall asleep wrapped up in something more.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear I'm working on new chapters for Breath and Museum! But you know how episode codas can sneak up on you...
> 
> [My Tumblr](http://porcupine-girl.tumblr.com).


End file.
